| Edmund Clarence Stedman, ed. (1833–1908). An American Anthology, 1787–1900. 1900. |
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| 972. My Comrade |
| | | By James Jeffrey Roche |
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| THE LOVE of man and woman is as fire, | |
| To warm, to light, but surely to consume | |
| And self-consuming die. There is no room | |
| For constancy and passionate desire. | |
| We stand at last beside a wasted pyre, | 5 |
| Touch its dead embers, groping in the gloom; | |
| And where an altar stood, erect a tomb, | |
| And sing a requiem to a broken lyre. | |
| But comrade-love is as a welding blast | |
| Of candid flame and ardent temperature: | 10 |
| Glowing most fervent, it doth bind more fast; | |
| And melting both, but makes the union sure. | |
| The dross alone is burnt—till at the last | |
| The steel, if cold, is one, and strong and pure. | |
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